Past Tense
by Lizard Pie
Summary: Her name was E something and she lived in a house. They said she was dangerous... but... how much could she hurt him through a window? Finally showing the right file


AN: I apologize to everyone who ended up reading the story now called 'Faded'. Uploading the wrong file is what happens when you have a million things labeled 'story' or 'Faust'. Finally, the right file.

Her name was E-something and she lived in a house. But she didn't live in a house like HE lived in a house. She never left other than to go to the doctor.

Everyone always talked about how she was sick but no one could decide exactly what she had. A severe case of cooties or chicken pox –maybe she had an extra leg or two. Something dramatic- always something dramatic. Otherwise there wouldn't be anything to talk about.

Though, those were only schoolyard rumors, of course, and they were never true.

But something HAD to be true about it, right? Why else would grownups look away and tell you not to think about it whenever you asked?

Maybe she wasn't sick… maybe she was dangerous. Maybe she could do something… like shoot lasers out of her hands. Maybe she wasn't going to doctors; maybe she was going to scientists, like in the movies.

Should he run?

As he stared up, he could feel his face turning red because he didn't know what else to do- and just for the fact that she was reaching out to him and only him.

He was glad she was behind glass because his tongue was thick and useless inside his mouth and he was positive he'd never have been able to make actual words.

And he didn't know if she was unaware that he was the 'devil child' or if she just didn't care, but by God she was waving and smiling at him. And with his sweating hands clamped to the book he couldn't even find the strength to wave back.

He didn't even know what to do –his whole body was paralyzed and beyond that what did one do in such a situation? He knew manners for adults, yes, but what about just a random person his age?

With a person in a group which avoided him like the plague, he was pathetically unqualified.

Slowly, shakily, he lifted his hand, fingers uncurling awkwardly as he gave a hesitant wave. It quickly clamped back to the book where it, at least, knew what it was supposed to do. His mouth even twitched into a smile –or what he hoped was a smile. His whole body was numb –acting on its own accord.

He'd, thankfully, found the right response. She beamed down at him, giving him a grin so wide her eyes closed (This only pushed the blush further).

If she opened the window, called to him, he was sure he'd die of shock.

She whipped her head around, blonde hair and red bows flying until they fit perfectly back into place. Like a china doll, every curl and bow was flawless. He was amazed that someone like this actually existed –a doll which had hopped off it's shelf to grace the window.

She turned to wave again before scampering off, leaving the window dark, bleak, blank and most of all lonely. And he stared for a long time before realizing the spell had been broken and his body was once again his own.

It scared him, now as he thought. Everything progressed when it came right down it. Logically, this meant that THIS, being part of everything, would progress.

Something more might be demanded of him; maybe not the next time or the next time but soon enough.

He would be asked to do more than just awkwardly wave. He would be asked to break the spell. And… and talk. Start at a simple 'hi' and then… move on from there.

How was he supposed to do that?

With all the strength he could muster, he picked up his lead feet and continued his way home. He continued to watch the empty window until it disappeared around the corner.

He wondered if by the time he was forced to speak she would have learned who and what he was -if even a shut-in would want nothing to do with him for fear of being cursed. He wondered if she would shoot him with her finger lasers so something to get rid of him.

And he couldn't figure out why his feet were getting lighter and lighter. Why he couldn't stop grinning and felt so _good_.

Maybe she wasn't dangerous… maybe she was just lonely and nice. Maybe everything would work out. Maybe this all wasn't as complicated as he had thought it was.

How hard could 'hi' be, really?

Everything progressed, but a lot of the time it was for the better, right?

Even if she was sick or something, he wouldn't get it just by saying something, right?

He supposed… he supposed he could make this work out. After all, she didn't have to know right away what he was.

And until that time, who knew? It might be wonderful! It might be spectacular, even! They might have a wonderful enough time that when she found out, she wouldn't care! It was almost more than he dared to hope.

He was practically flying with the prospect as he made his way up his street.

If they were both to be alone, they could be alone together. Maybe now, maybe always.

And that would be just fine.


End file.
